For the past four months, Bill Walton has been in agony. Flat on his back, pain searing through every part of his body, with only time, stretching, Yoga and patience prescribed to heal his injuries.

In February, after a long cross-country flight from

ESPN’s headquarters in Connecticut to his home in San Diego, he tried to stand up and couldn’t. His back was

a wreck. The diagnosis is agonizing to even recount: a pinched nerve, bulging disks, damaged muscles and tendons.

Ever since, the former UCLA great and ESPN personality has been in a painful seclusion, healing slowly from the floor, the bed, or wherever else he could lie flat.

He probably should be in bed still. Even light activity takes a toll on his body. Father’s Day this year was destined to be just another day in agonizing pain.

But Tuesday night, there was a game he just couldn’t miss. His son Luke was playing for the Lakers in Game 3 of the NBA Finals against the Boston Celtics.

Bill Walton of course, is as synonymous with the Celtics as he is with UCLA, having won a championship with Boston in 1986. But in this series, there is no doubt where his heart is.

“There would be nothing on Earth that would make me happier and more proud than to see Luke become an NBA champion,” Walton said. “To see the smile on a young person’s face is the greatest thing that can happen to any older person. And when that person is your own child, there’s nothing like it. That’s why I want Luke and his team to win.”

Happy reunion

And so, Bill Walton came to Staples Center both Tuesday and Thursday nights, that big, toothy smile filling up his face the whole time, no matter how the Lakers were playing, or how much pain he was still feeling.

His famously bright, red hair is more dull now, as you’d expect from a 55-year-

old man, but not yet completely gray.

Should the Lakers somehow rally from this 3-1 series deficit, the Waltons would be just the third father and son to each win NBA titles. The only other two are Matt Goukas Sr. and Jr., who each won a title in Philadelphia, and Rick Barry (Golden State) and Brent Barry (San Antonio).

Before Game 3, Bill Walton found Luke near midcourt and gave him a hug. It was the first time they’d seen each other since February. But now was not a time for sentimentality. The game was just minutes away, so the embrace was short.

During the game, Bill sat quietly next to his wife, Lori, never once getting up from his courtside seat to yell or scream.

“That’s how he always was,” said Jim Tomey, who coached Luke Walton and two of his three brothers at San Diego’s University High from 1995-98.

“Bill was the best parent I ever coached. He was a true fan. He was positive, always asking what he could do to help, but never offering basketball advice.

“I can remember to this day, looking out into the stands, even when things weren’t going well, and seeing those big, white teeth and that flaming red hair of his.”

When Luke was at Arizona, playing for legendary Wildcats coach Lute Olson, Bill was exactly the same way.

“I remember one time when we played UCLA, Bill called me up in advance and asked if it would bother me if he came to the game and sat in his courtside seat,” Olson said. “He was always superconscious of his presence and not wanting it to take away from Luke or us. I used to tell him he should write a book on how to be a parent of a Division I athlete.”

The naturals

All four of Walton’s sons played basketball and all four were good. Oldest brother Adam played at LSU and then Notre Dame; Nate, the second-oldest, played at Princeton (and subsequently ran for governor of California in 2003 in the recall election and got nearly 1,700 votes); and youngest brother Chris played at San Diego State.

Luke, 28, two years younger than Nate and two years older than Chris, is the only one to make the NBA.

They came to the sport gracefully, almost without even thinking of it.

Bill was at the peak of his career during their formative years, and has described his two seasons with the Celtics as the most enjoyable of his professional career even though they came at the end of his 14 seasons in the NBA.

His four sons were all under the age of 10 at that time and they loved being around the team. They’d run around the practice courts at Hellenic College or hide out in the back of his car when he’d drive to the Garden from his home in Cambridge. On off days, they’d go over to Larry Bird’s house and play Nintendo.

“I think through osmosis they just figured everything out,” Tomey said. “Those kids have a movie in their head of what they saw when they saw their dad play. Being privy to talks with Larry Bird or (Kevin) McHale, being around those locker rooms, watching all those games.

“All that stuff just goes into your memory bank.”

But Bill never pushed his sons into basketball. Like many of his generation, he wanted his kids to follow their own bliss, and make their own paths through life. His job was simply to encourage and support them.

“I always look back on the way (UCLA coach John) Wooden would start every pregame speech,” Walton said. “As we were sitting there, anxiously awaiting the message of hope and inspiration to go out there and win this game, Coach Wooden would stand there with his rolled-up program and say, ‘Men, I’ve done my job. The rest is up to you. Now let’s go get it done.’

“And, that’s really what you try to do as a parent, which is to create opportunities to help encourage, to offer support, love and have that unconditional nature of the father-son relationship where they feel that you’re always there for them.”

Trash talk

Once his sons chose basketball though, that encouragement took some rather whimsical forms.

Nate, Luke and Chris all played for Tomey at University High. On nights when they’d stay with their father – Bill and the boys’ mother, Susie, divorced in 1989 – he’d wake up early and pack them a lunch. Inside were handwritten notes with inspirational quotes from Wooden, or supposed trash-

talk from their opponents.

University’s rival in those days was St. Augustine’s, whose star player was future UCLA center Jelani McCoy. The notes would say things like, “This is Jelani McCoy, I’m going to eat you up today like this lunch.”

It didn’t stop in high school either. Over the years, the notes turned into voicemails. This season, while he was recuperating, those voicemails were some of the only contact Bill would have with Luke.

“In the first series, he was Carmelo (Anthony),” Luke said. “Then he was Carlos Boozer. He didn’t do it for San Antonio. He just said Tim Duncan doesn’t talk trash.”

“Before the Finals, he left one that was like, ‘This is Paul Pierce, you’re a bum; all your teammates are bums.’

“But it’s totally his voice. He doesn’t change his voice at all.”

Said Bill, “I’m no Frank Caliendo.”

The cool parents

Luke laughs as he talks about his dad’s impressions, amused more than embarrassed. He alternates between calling him “My Dad” or just Bill. But there’s no disrespect behind it.

“All the boys are genuinely friends with their dad,” said Tomey, who has been a family friend for nearly 30 years. “They always called him Bill. And their mother Susie, Suz.”

They were the cool parents in the neighborhood. Grateful Dead followers, laid back, San Diego beach bums, interested in politics, counterculture, history, all of it.

Their house was a living shrine to UCLA basketball and the Grateful Dead, if you can somehow imagine that combination. At least some of it rubbed off on Luke, who has a tattoo on his right arm with four Grateful Dead skeletons dribbling basketballs. It’s a nod to both his parents, the bond between the four brothers, and the entire family’s love of basketball.

Outside the house was a 20-by-25 foot slab of concrete and a basketball hoop, and it was always being used.

“They were always out there playing, even though the court was like a postage stamp,” Tomey said. “You can imagine when the garage door was pulled down, there were no free ones near the rim.”

When Luke showed up at Arizona, Olson was amazed at all the aspects of the game that just came naturally to him.

“I’m sure Bill taught them all a lot of stuff in that driveway,” Olson said. “But I think there are some things that are just in the genes. There were things he had a feel for, with the game, that I don’t think you can teach.”

Something special

When he was in town, Bill would be out there with the boys, playing but never pushing. There came a point though, when Bill knew Luke might someday be something special. Luke was in the fifth grade then, and had entered a 3-on-3 tournament with friends.

Bill and Susie drove them to the tournament in Palm Springs early one morning, but when they got there, the tournament director told them no other fifth-grade teams had entered the tournament.

“The closest they had was eighth grade,” Bill recalled. “I looked at the boys and they said, ‘Let’s play, let’s go.’

“They went out there and played against all these huge guys, four, five years older than they were and they just got pummeled in the first game by these big, brutish guys.

“But after that, they came back. They got to the final against the same team. And when they played this time, the ball movement, the accuracy, the fundamentals, the shooting, it was just perfect, they just blew them off the court. They were so excited, they did not need the car to get home.”

Luke remembers it a little differently.

“We were just these cocky little kids,” he said. “And maybe we got lucky.”

He’s kidding of course, being modest. These days, despite the Lakers’ loss the other night, it’s a bit hard for Luke to keep a smile off his face.

His dad is back. It’s Father’s Day. And he’s living a dream for them both.

“If we both got rings, it would be sweet,” Luke said. “It would be a lot easier to have dinner with him.”

Join the Conversation

We invite you to use our commenting platform to engage in insightful conversations about issues in our community. Although we do not pre-screen comments, we reserve the right at all times to remove any information or materials that are unlawful, threatening, abusive, libelous, defamatory, obscene, vulgar, pornographic, profane, indecent or otherwise objectionable to us, and to disclose any information necessary to satisfy the law, regulation, or government request. We might permanently block any user who abuses these conditions.

If you see comments that you find offensive, please use the “Flag as Inappropriate” feature by hovering over the right side of the post, and pulling down on the arrow that appears. Or, contact our editors by emailing moderator@scng.com.